


Let Lightening Be the Veins

by N9ne



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, M/M, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 02:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15208511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N9ne/pseuds/N9ne
Summary: “Hey, hey,” Tony stutters, shifting his weight onto his back leg to prepare to run to his suit. “Whatever it is, it’s absolutely yours, big guy. No contention.”





	Let Lightening Be the Veins

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this after Age of Ultron was released, so it might not follow timelines of future Marvel movies. I do what I want.

“Ronnie, sentinel mode.”

“Sir, given the current situation, I’d advise against –“

Tony ignores Veronica and all but launches himself out of the suit. Banner – Hulk – is recovering slowly from that hundred story drop through the skeleton of a building; slow enough that Tony might actually be concerned for Hulk, if he wasn’t already shitting his pants about his own safety.

“Hey big guy,” if Tony’s voice wobbles a little bit, no one’s close enough to hear. Hulk’s head snaps around to look at him, and Tony raises his hands slowly in a gesture of surrender. “Sun’s getting real… warm? Close. Sun’s getting real close.”

Hulk roars and a cinderblock turns to powder under his fist. Screaming on the street escalates as he lurches to his feet.

“Okay! I don’t know the lullaby, and we both know I’m not the sort of pretty thing that usually distracts you –“ Hulk huffs as though in agreement? Tony’s not sure, and not in a position to try and decipher at the moment. “But, you saved me once. Remember? You caught me in the sky and made sure I didn’t become a pancake.”

Hulk’s eyes are still rolling, like a skittish colt, and he keeps making aborted movements in the direction of the barricade the military is attempting to set up to keep him pinned down. But he nods jerkily, as though not used to being consulted on past behaviour. “Fall,” he rumbles, pitched low.

Tony nods vigorously. “I fell and you saved me.” He stretches out a hand as slow as he can towards Hulk, making every motion as fluid as possible. “Let me save you.”

“Tony fall,” Hulk repeats, and edges closer to Tony. Tony’s not sure if the Hulk is in agreement with him, or predicting Tony’s imminent future, but he nods encouragingly. He attempts to remain as still and nonthreatening as possible, keeping the tremors working their way down his arm to a minimum. Hulk stops in arm’s reach of Tony and huffs.

It’s taking everything in Tony to remain still. He can’t remember a time he wasn’t moving with nervous energy; hell, Pepper’s told him he all but vibrates in his sleep. Tony wants to run screaming back to the suit, back to relative safety. This was a terrible idea. Tony can’t remember why he ever thought it would be a good idea.

Bruce and the Hulk are the same, but different. It was stupid to try and appeal to the ‘Bruce-side’ of the Hulk, because there isn’t one. 

Tony’s back is tensed from the strain of just remaining still, and Tony’s surprised he can hear anything over the pounding of his heart in his ears. He’s seen the other guy up close and personal before, but he was always in the suit. Tony’s hyperaware of how vulnerable he is right now, and he can’t stop the thought from screaming through his head that he’s going to die in this African city, miles from home, at the hands of Hulk and it’s going to be on YouTube forever.

_‘The Death of Tony Stark. Hulk Smash?!’_

Pepper’s going to bring him back, just to kill him again.

Hulk stretches out a hand that’s almost as big as Tony’s whole arm and Tony holds his breath. With grace that belays his size, a giant green hand comes to rest palm up in his hand.

The electric shock that Tony gets isn’t fun, and he can’t help but have respect for Natasha; that she willingly gets electrocuted every time Bruce has a temper tantrum. Without complaining no less. Tony’d be bitching constantly (out of earshot of Bruce of course; the other scientist already feels bad enough about himself and Tony’s not enough of a dick to make it worse).

The Hulk snatches his hand back, and he looks _pissed_.

Tony successfully doesn’t wet himself.

“Woah, woah, easy,” Tony rasps, hoping to mollify the big guy, and easing one foot back in the direction of the Iron Man suit. “I don’t know what happened there, but it wasn’t me, although we could possibly blame it on my electric personality – “

“MINE!” Hulk howls, loud enough that nearby windows shatter, and Tony claps his hands over his ears in a near failed attempt to keep his hearing intact. He half expects to feel to warm sluice of blood down his neck from his ears.

Hulk’s chest is heaving again, sucking in huge gulps of air, and if Tony didn’t know better he’d say the big guy was hyperventilating. His green eyes are alarmingly fever bright, worse than before Tony managed to calm him down. 

“Hey, hey,” Tony stutters, shifting his weight onto his back leg to prepare to run to his suit. “Whatever it is, it’s absolutely yours, big guy. No contention.”

The Hulk tenses, and Tony abandons any illusions that this is going to work, twisting his wrist in the direction of his suit. One gauntlet sails towards him, but not quickly enough; Hulk is already on top of him, and batting the pieces of suit that try to make their way to Tony away like errant flies. 

Tony shrieks.

In the next moment, Hulk’s gripped him one meaty hand and settles Tony onto his back. Tony doesn’t have to be told verbally to hold on. The army surrounding them makes the grave mistake of opening fire, and Hulk roars again. Hulk bends his knees and launches himself into the air, scrambling up the side of a building. It was one of the ones that hadn’t been damaged, Tony notes, but can no longer boast that now. The Hulk careens back through the city, Tony barely holding on, unsure whether staying on or getting off is the worse option.

“Shit!” Tony exclaims belatedly, the two of them sailing past an office building so close, he can see the shocked faces inside. One of his hands of their own accord shoot up and into Hulk’s hair, his fingers nearly cramping with the strength of his grip. Hulk roars again, but does nothing to dislodge Tony’s hand. 

There are worse ways to travel than on the back of the Hulk, Tony is sure, but he’s hard pressed to think of any examples on the fly. Perhaps riding on the back of a Great White shark to his destination might be a worse way to travel. He feels on the precipice of death at every moment. Flying in the Iron Man suit is exhilarating; this is terrifying.

Tony tucks his head and hunches his shoulders as they plow straight through a building, and emerge on the other side covered in debris. “Effective,” Tony mutters.

He closes his eyes and just holds on.

 

Tony’s not sure how much time passes or how many miles for that matter. He’s not even sure if they’re still in Wakanda, or if they’ve crossed over into another country. He was a little too busy trying to hold on to the Hulk, which felt like he was riding an avalanche. He slid off once already, but Hulk caught him before he hit the ground; the look of terror that crossed the Hulk’s face as he painstakingly looked Tony over was enough of a deterrent for Tony for a repeat performance. 

“Hey Big Guy,” Tony shouts into his ear, far past caring if he angered him further. Tony’s arms, legs and even ass hurt from holding on for so long. “How about we find somewhere to break for the night? I can’t hold on much longer, and I don’t think anyone’s chasing us.”

“Safe,” Hulk mutters, slowing his pace somewhat. Vegetation crunches under his massive feet as he spins in a circle, and his curiosity piqued, Tony risks a look up from the middle of the Hulk’s neck. 

It turns out not to be the best move, as Tony’s vision spins and he feels abruptly sick to his stomach. His arms let go of their own accord, and he slides down into lush undergrowth. “If I get bitten by a mosquito on steroids and die of malaria, you may consider this your fault,” he informs the Hulk thickly, bile rising in his throat.

He finds himself cradled abruptly against a massive chest, which Tony gives the Hulk points for sympathy, but deducts points for making him more nauseated with the abrupt lift. “Woah, woah,” he says placating, smiling to fight off the gag reflex. He pats Hulk on the chest like he’s an oversized puppy and not an enormous rage monster. “Sarcasm, big guy. If we’re going to be friends, you’re going to have to realize most of what I say is hot air. As long as you’re around I’m safe,” he says, hope that throwing Hulk’s vernacular back at him will diffuse some of the Hulk’s anxiety.

“Safe?” Hulk asks in a way Tony can only describe as uncertain. Tony resists the urge to raise his eyebrow.

“Completely safe,” Tony says, editing the add-on _’except from various flora and wild animals’_ that he’s sure the Hulk wouldn’t appreciate. It’s been fun, but he wants Bruce back. “Good job,” he adds, patting the Hulk awkwardly.

The Hulk beams down at him. “Mine.”

“Sure, sure,” Tony agrees distractedly, digging around in his pocket for his Stark Phone and wrinkling his nose when he pulls it out and sees the screen’s been all but turned to powder. “This might take some time to fix to get our buddies to come pick us up,” he informs the Hulk, waving the phone.

The Hulk makes a strange, non-committal noise that Tony files away to analyse later and begins moving through the jungle at a slightly more sedate pace. Tony finds that riding in bridal-style in Hulk’s arms is far preferable to riding Hulk-back, but no more conductive to fixing his main mode of communication. Night’s nearly fallen, shadows growing long from the trees and Tony thinks he can see the eyes of strange little creatures staring up at them from the underbrush. He’s torn between wanting Bruce back and wanting to spend the night in this place with the Hulk, who doesn’t seem like he’s about to turn Tony into soup anytime soon, but Tony knows that not the same for anything else lurking out there in the darkness.

“Hey Big Guy – “ Tony starts.

“Hulk,” the Hulk corrects him.

Tony raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t comment. “Hulk, anywhere we can spend the night?”

The Hulk looks around them, and marches off through some waist deep bushes to their left and emerges on the other side in a small clearing, a gentle stream running through the middle of it. 

“Well, predators do tend to hang out near bodies of water, but I doubt we’ve got much to worry about with you around, do we?” Tony says, not expecting much of an answer as he wiggles around in the Hulk’s grip.

“Hulk keep you safe,” Tony hears rumbled above him, and he stares up at the Hulk, mouth agape. The Hulk doesn’t give him a chance to respond though, as he’s dumped on the forest floor unceremoniously. 

Tony takes the opportunity to lay back and stretch his sore and aching muscles from fighting Ultron, the Hulk and then this bizarre side trip into the jungle. “You’ve been holding out on us, Big Gu- Hulk,” Tony corrects quickly when Hulk’s nostrils flare. “You’re not the mindless animal Banner makes you out to be.”

Hulk huffs and lowers himself to the ground with a thump that leaves the earth trembling.

“Okay,” he says, finding talking out loud to the Hulk relaxing; which should go to show how addled this day has made him. “First thing, we need fire.”

 

When Bruce comes to, he can hear the crackling of a fire nearby and the tinny voice of someone far away shouting, "Tony! Tony! Where are you? Are you alright? We saw a pretty grainy video..."

Ignoring the roiling in his stomach, Bruce slowly pushes himself into a sitting position, trying to ignore the ache in his back. He doesn't know what happened; but since he’s naked from the waist up he can take a stab in the dark that it involved the Other Guy. 

He keeps his eyes firmly closed and grits his teeth. If Tony's mangled body is anywhere near him, he's too cowardly to look at it. 

"We're alright," there's a hint of amusement in Tony's voice. "Always told you the big guy had a soft spot for me."

"He might be the only one," Agent Hill says. Even slightly tinny from the comm Bruce would recognize her voice and clipped speech anywhere. "You've been MIA for hours."

"Yes, well, after I got Hulk-napped it took me a while to convince him there was no immediate danger to us," Tony says breezily. "I think I'm going to be taking over lullaby duty from Agent Romanov soon. Turns out the pretty boys can distract the Hulk just as easily."

"When I distract the Hulk, I don't end up abducted," Natasha says.

"That's your loss then. I can personally vouch for it being a very exhilarating experience. There was manly bonding."

"Tony," Steve says, his authoritative voice flooding whatever Tony's speaking into. "Cut the snark, and turn on your tracking beacon. We need to find you.”

“Is it as bad as Harlem?” Bruce asks, eyes still shut.

"Now look what you’ve done; you’ve woken Sleeping Beauty, and when he was sleeping so peacefully too.” Tony says, and there’s shuffling a couple feet away to Bruce’s left, and he assumes Tony’s turned to look at him. “Bruce, it was like three buildings. Then Hulk and I took a tour of the country-side. It was all very romantic and spontaneous. Although, I’m going to request that next time he packs a picnic.”

“Tony,” Steve says warningly. “It’s not the time.”

“I’m just saying, it’s the least he can do. With your next armour upgrade, I think I’m going to install a sense of humour. I’m not convinced you have one.” 

“Given what went down in Wakanda we’re surprised there’s not a warrant out for Bruce’s arrest, but I can only guess that it’ll be coming soon." Steve says sharply. “This isn’t the time to be goofing off!”

“Future reference Cap,” Tony starts, and Bruce can tell this conversation is going off the rails quickly, based on how Tony’s reverted to code names. “Bruce needs a little less doom and gloom post change or he’s liable to turn himself inside out with guilt. The man has the self-confidence of a sixteen year old girl.” 

Bruce slowly pries his eyes open, wincing as the lids stick to each other. He stares down at himself. “Oh, good, I am still here. I was worried, considering you’re talking about me like I’m not.”

Tony reaches out a foot and pokes him in the leg. “Bruce, you narcissist, not everything is about you.”

Bruce meets his eyes for the first time with a small smile insistently tugging at the corners of his mouth despite everything.

“To reiterate, Steven, when we make it make to Avengers Tower, I’m making an appointment for you to get the stick removed from your ass. I’m sure it’s great for your posture, but man it makes you crabby.” Tony says into what looks like it used to be a Stark Phone. Bruce isn’t sure, since it’s clearly had some modifications done to it recently. 

There's a low whistle and Clint asks, "Can we book Fury in for that, too?" before there's a high beep and everything falls silent.

Tony's still a little blurry, but Bruce can make out the dumbfounded expression Tony’s making at his phone. “I think that son of a bitch actually hung up on me.”

“I can’t see why,” Bruce says, crossing his legs and wrapping his arms around his torso. “You were being so charming and amiable.”

“It’s decided,” Tony says, ignoring Bruce, haughty expression in place as he rehabilitates his phone. “He’s not invited to my next birthday.”

“Isn’t that a tad elementary?”

Tony looks up from his work, though his hands never cease moving. He adopts a wounded expression, chocolate brown eyes boring deep into Bruce’s. "I'm hurt, Bruce. You've clearly never been to one of my parties, or you wouldn't be making that statement. _Despite numerous invitations_." 

“Crowds aren’t really my thing. Where’s your suit?” Bruce asks, changing the subject to one that’s more relevant. Tony looks more dishevelled than Bruce has ever seen him, bits of plaster and sand in his hair, and dirt streaked across his face. His shirt has a fair few holes in it and his pants haven’t fared much better. “Where’s your suit?” He demands when Tony fails respond.

“Oh, I’m sure the team has picked it up the pieces by now; turns out Hulk wasn’t fond of Ronnie.” Tony says flippantly, a quirk to his lips.

“But, he’s fond of you,” Bruce repeats thickly, rubbing his hands up and down his arms, to restore some warmth back into them. It’s not cold necessarily, but he feels exposed, half-naked. He’s not sure why it’s suddenly an issue, given how very many times Tony has seen him like this, but it is. 

“You’re fond of me,” Tony says. “It only stands to reason that Hulk would be, too.”

“The Other Guy,” Bruce enunciates, as though Tony’s got a hearing problem, “and I are not the same entity.”

“He asked me to call him Hulk,” Tony says, turning back to what looks like a completely shattered Stark Phone. “My momma raised me to be polite.”

“I bet you pick and choose what you listen to regarding advice from your childhood,” Bruce mutters under his breath.

“Hmm?” Tony hums inquisitively, even though Bruce knows damn well Tony heard him.

“What did I miss?”

Tony snaps his phone shut decisively, and arranges himself tailor style on the ground. “We’ll look it up later together,” Tony says, waggling his phone in the air like it’s some kind of prize. “I haven’t been able to stream any of the videos that have been uploaded yet. There’s mild lag in the midst of the jungle unfortunately.”

“Rest assured I won’t be watching anything to do with the Other Guy,” Bruce says firmly, dropping his gaze to his knees.

“You’re going to want to see this,” Tony promises, and at Bruce’s pinched look he amends, “Well, maybe not all of it, but my lullaby is superb.”

“Sure, Tony,” Bruce says, but, despite his reservations, Bruce’s interest is piqued. He assesses their current location and his stomach drops. “Where are we?”

“African rainforest,” Tony says vaguely, waving a hand, and turning back to his phone. 

“Oh,” Bruce says. “Good.”

“Why don’t you lay back down,” Tony suggests, warm brown eyes flicking back over to him. A green haze of jealousy flares up from within, almost crowding him out of his skull, because Tony’s eyes should _always_ be on them. Bruce squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head violently, the haze going unwillingly back to where it belongs at edge of his consciousness. “She really did a number on you, didn’t she?” Tony says, his voice quiet and deep with concern.

“Yeah,” Bruce agrees, because she must have. He’s lost the precious little control he’s gained over the years, just a _look_ triggering the Other Guy. Not to mention, he’s normally achy after the change, but his back is on fire. He’s not sure what happened, or what did it, but he settles gingerly back down on the ground, careful to lay on his side facing Tony. “Wake me when they get here.”

“Sure,” he hears Tony agree, as his eyes slide shut, mistakes and regrets coming to life behind his eyelids. Rest won’t come so easily.


End file.
